


I Get to Be the Other Half Of You

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexuality Spectrum, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 12:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16429658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Clarke's high school boyfriend doesn't seem to be good at kissing, but she doesn't mind that much. She figures she'll find someone better for her.She does, it just takes a few years.





	I Get to Be the Other Half Of You

**Author's Note:**

> I got an anon request to write something for Asexual Awareness week, which is currently happening, and I've never tried my hand at asexual Clarke, so this seemed like a good time. Bellamy also IDs as ace.

Clarke doesn't really have trouble not sleeping with her first boyfriend.

It's not any kind of _thing_ , not sleeping with him, not even something she notices much. They don't go out for that long and it's just not that serious. She heard he liked her from a friend, who had heard it from a friend of his, and when she shrugged and said he was okay, the high-school grape vine turned it into a message that, if he asked her out, she'd say yes, and she was curious, so she did. She'd never had a boyfriend before, and she wanted to know what it would be like.

Without anyone to compare him to, it's hard to be _sure_ he's a bad kisser, but she definitely doesn't enjoy kissing him. When he fumbles his hand over her breast, it's mostly just awkward. If he tried to go further, she probably wouldn't have stopped him, but his parents get home, and Clarke doesn't really think it's worth finding the time to sleep with him after that. She's still curious, in a general sense, but if kissing him wasn't great, she doesn't see why she'd want to fuck him. There have to be better guys to have sex with.

Three months into college, she starts dating Finn Collins, who _is_ pretty good at kissing, at least from what she can tell. Her chin doesn't get as wet, and she actually has fun kissing him.

But no matter how much she does it, she never feels like she _gets_ kissing Finn. It never crosses the line from being good into being amazing, never quite clicks. It's just another thing the two of them do together, but more involved than snuggling or grabbing dinner. She can't do homework while she and Finn make out.

Miller chokes when she tells him this. "Dude. Of course you can't."

"No, I know. I'm not saying I want to," she adds, although it's not entirely true. "I don't know. I'm not explaining it right."

"Have you ever considered that maybe you're not into dudes?" he asks. "Because every time you talk about dating, I get flashbacks to trying to hook up with my high-school girlfriend."

Clarke has considered it, but she's still on the fence. She _does_ think Finn is cute. She likes his broad chest and his smile. She likes being with him in quiet, easy ways, even if she's still working on being _with_ him. And when she thinks about kissing a girl, it's not a bad thought, but she doesn't think she'd like kissing the girl better, if kissing the girl was just like Finn. Girls, en mass, can't be _that_ much better at kissing.

"I think I'm into dudes," she says, careful. "I might be into girls too, but I don't think it's related. Maybe _I'm_ bad at kissing. But Finn hasn't complained."

"No offense to my gender, but most guys I know are just happy they're getting laid. Or might be getting laid eventually," he adds, with a wave of his fork. "They're not that hung up on technique."

"So I might be bad at kissing."

"If you wish you could be doing homework when you're kissing your boyfriend, there's probably something going wrong somewhere."

It's true, and Clarke can admit that the kissing isn't really the only problem with Finn. The moments she likes, the ones of just being a couple, are the ones he seems least interested in, the ones he's always trying to turn into a hookup. He never wants to just _be_ , and she's already on the verge of a confrontation about it when she finds out about Raven.

"It explains a lot," she says, taking a swig from Raven's bottle of vodka and wincing. She likes drinking, in theory, but she's still trying to get good at it. Maybe that's just college for her right now: waiting to get good at things she wants to like.

Raven, of course, doesn't wince when she drinks. She's a year older than Clarke, like Finn was, gorgeous and apparently brilliant, the kind of person who should have their whole life together, but here she is on the floor of a dorm room with illegally procured booze.

"Yeah?" Raven asks.

"It never felt like he wanted to just hang out. He probably had to get back to you."

Raven snorts. "Turns out having two girlfriends isn't all fun and games. You've got to be really on top of your schedule."

"Was a he a good boyfriend?" she asks, with another gulp of vodka. This one goes down easier. "Aside from the cheating. Were you happy?"

"I thought so. He'd been weird, but--it used to be good. But it's hard not to go back and second-guess everything. Maybe we were never happy, I don't know."

Clarke was hoping she could get away without actually asking directly, but that's not happening. "How was the sex?" Raven's eyebrows shoot up, and she hastens to add, "We never actually--we just kissed. A little under the shirt stuff. I've never--"

That seems to help; Raven's face softens, and she bumps Clarke's shoulder. "He's the only guy I've ever been with, so I don't have anything to compare to. But there's no way that's as good as it gets."

"No?"

"I think we were getting better. It was a while before he could get me off himself, but he got there. I figured we had the rest of our lives to get the hang of it." She shakes her head with this soft, defeated sound that's related to a laugh. "Stupid, I know. Who marries their high-school boyfriend?"

"Someone who likes their high-school boyfriend," Clarke says. "It's not a bad thing."

"No, it was." It's a pronouncement when Raven says it, a declaration of how the world is. She's making it true. "He was safe, you know? Staying with him was safe. And now I get to find someone better."

Clarke smiles, holds up the vodka. "To someone better."

"To someone better."

*

Clarke's next person is Niylah, and she's definitely someone better. Miller introduces them junior year, when he finally convinces Clarke to come to the campus LGBT group and tentatively ID as bisexual. Niylah is smart and pretty, direct in her interest, almost comically eager to have conversations, especially compared to Finn. They talk about kissing, what Clarke likes and doesn't like, and they talk about other things, about everything, and that makes it easier to _do_ everything. Clarke finds she likes giving more than receiving, in terms of sex, finds it easier to be the one getting Niylah off. Getting touched feels good, but she's slow to come, especially without mechanical intervention. She's always afraid that Niylah will be offended or discouraged if it's taking too long, and it just doesn't seem worth it. It's still fun, and Niylah's happy, or at least happy enough. When they break up, it's because Niylah is graduating, perfectly amicable and drama-free. Clarke's confident that she's a fine kisser, pretty good at oral, and a decent girlfriend. 

And once she's sure of that, she loses a lot of her interest in actually being anyone's girlfriend. It's not that she's opposed to the idea; it's just that once she's sure she's capable of having a relationship, it becomes a lot less pressing to actually have one. It'll happen when it happens, and given the number of subpar relationships she's been in, rushing into another one seems stupid. She'd rather wait for someone who's a good fit.

So she graduates and gets a job in Boston, gets an apartment with Miller, and settles into her real life. Most of her friends are Miller's friends, on loan, which isn't the best, but she and Raven facetime once a week, and she gets updates about Niylah's string of new girlfriends, and she's happy, for the most part. Content, for sure.

Bellamy Blake happens four years after graduation, and Clarke's first impression of him is that Miller has great taste in guys.

It's a misconception only because of the Miller part; they're at a Halloween party and Miller told her the guy he liked was there. When he gave Bellamy one of those back-thumping bro hugs and said, "Hey, good to see you," Clarke had just assumed this was the crush. He was, after all, incredibly hot, with a great smile, wearing a toga that showed off an impressive upper body. He seemed like a good crush, and Clarke approved. Miller had been single for almost a year, and, unlike her, he was upset about it.

But then Miller wandered off to find the video games, and Clarke found herself alone with this unfamiliar man dressed as some kind of Greek god, possibly expected to be Miller's wingman.

"So, you're Miller's roommate, right?" he asks.

"Yeah. We went to college together."

He nods, in that slightly awkward way people do when they realize they're out of words way too early in a conversation. "Cool."

"You guys work together?"

His mouth twitches. "No, he's got a thing for _my_ roommate."

Clarke has to take a second for that one, adjusting. She knew that she had been not meeting Miller's crush for a while. She knew that she didn't know the crush's name, because Miller always calls him _the new guy_. That's how Miller is with crushes; he's always convinced that if he doesn't name them, the feelings aren't real, like some kind of weird, Voldemort situation. She knew that he'd been spending time with this new guy outside of work, that they were becoming friends.

She hadn't realized quite how many things she was skipping out on because she didn't feel like going out, but Bellamy is living proof of it, right in front of her.

"I didn't know he knew the guy well enough to hang out with his roommate," she says, careful.

"He's pretty shitty at talking about crushes, so that's not a surprise."

Clarke smiles. "He really is."

Dunking on Miller is, as it turns out, a great way to bond with someone new, and the conversation flows easily after that. Bellamy is a few years older than she is, a high-school history teacher who met Monty--Miller's crush--on craigslist a few years back when Monty and his best friend were looking for a place to live. He likes them, says they've gotten him into board games and are trying to lure him into video games too, after a childhood of growing up poor and wary of technology.

"What about it?"

"Not to be way too serious for a Halloween party, but I think it was a defense mechanism. I couldn't afford it, so I told myself it sucked anyway. I think it worked too well on my sister, now she lives in Alaska and drops off the face of the earth for months at a time because she doesn't have a cell phone."

Clarke hides her smile in her beer; she likes people who are too serious. "So what video games are you getting into now?"

"Monty just bought _Assassin's Creed: Odyssey_ , I think it was just to make me want to play it."

"That's the one with the really ripped bi girl with a bird, right?"

He grins. "That's it, yeah. Technically you can be a girl or a guy, but I don't know why anyone would want to be Alexios when Kassandra is right there."

"I haven't actually played it, but I like to backseat drive while Miller plays."

"Yeah? What do you tell him to do?"

"Flirt with girls and kill people."

"That's the only way to do it, yeah."

For the first time in a while, Clarke finds herself wanting to clarify that she's bi, that she also likes Kassandra hooking up with hot guys, but as always, she can't figure out the exact right way to put it.

Bellamy does it for her. "I think it's just that the romance options are available for both characters every time, which is cool. I get to be as bi as I want, and even homophobic dudes who are pissed that playing as a woman is an option have to see flirty dialogue options popping up when they're talking to guys."

"How bi do you want to be?"

"As bi as possible, always."

"Same," she says, and he grins.

Miller eventually finds them again, with his crush. He's hot (if not, in Clarke's opinion, as hot as Bellamy), dressed as Waluigi, whom Clarke only recognizes from memes, and can't stop looking at Miller, all of which bode well for Miller's chances with him. And he's cool too, a nice guy with a quick wit.

But Clarke's a little distracted by Bellamy. 

Given he's not actually Miller's crush, it's not theoretically a problem. He's cute, he's bi, he seems to be single. It should be a slam dunk. But it's just been so _long_. And just because she's interested, it doesn't mean that he is.

"Can't believe I never thought about you and Bellamy," Miller says, as they walk home. "Of course you assholes would get along."

"Takes one to know one," Clarke shoots back, automatic, most of her mind on _you and Bellamy_. "I think Monty might be too nice for you."

"Yeah, no question."

She glances at him sidelong. "Me and Bellamy? You think?"

His roll of eyes is all fondness, an expression she hasn't seen in a while. Maybe Miller doesn't talk to her about his love life more because she never reciprocates. Maybe gossip is more fun when everyone can get teased. "Doesn't really matter what I think, right? If you're into him, you should go for it."

Clarke looks up at the stars, letting the thought of it fill her chest. Liking someone again _could_ be fun. If he liked her too. "Yeah," she says. "Maybe I should."

*

Dating in high school and college didn't feel that hard, but, in retrospect, her relationships really weren't particularly deep. Niylah was the best of them, but even then, it was fairly uncomplicated. They saw each other when they didn't have class, but they didn't have real lives to coordinate. She didn't have to put effort into seeing Niylah, because they lived on the same campus.

Every time she sees Bellamy, it's a choice. She has to go out of her way to interact with him, sometimes do things she wouldn't usually do. It feels dishonest and deceptive, even when it's actually fun stuff like _getting drinks_ and _seeing movies_. She's doing them with ulterior motives.

She might not be as good at all of this as she thought. And she honestly didn't think she was great at it.

But it's not as if she's not enjoying herself. She'd gotten into kind of a rut, not being social, convinced that she was forcing herself into Miller's social circle, but no one seems to mind her being there, Bellamy least of all. By all appearances, he likes spending time with her, and drinks and movies turn into regular texting, chatting, friendship verging on intimacy.

It doesn't, however, turn into what she thinks of as a _relationship_. They never see each other alone, never do things as a couple. There's no kissing, no sex, no waking up with him or going to sleep with him, none of the impositions on her life she'd like.

A new friend is nice, but she definitely and absolutely wants _more_. She's sure of it in a way she hasn't ever been before, in a way she wasn't when she was a kid who wanted to know what romance was like. Bellamy doesn't feel like an experiment or a curiosity; he feels like someone who could really be a partner. He's the closest she's ever come to feeling what she thinks she's supposed to feel, when she's in love.

So she asks him to get coffee, and it's actually a little terrifying, her first time making the first move at age twenty-seven, even when the "first move" is barely even a move.

Bellamy, at least, doesn't make her wait long; he texts back _Sure, when and where?_ in less than five minutes.

Clarke knows, as she's looking at outfits and fretting about how to wear her hair and debating glasses or contacts, that this isn't really a huge deal. Bellamy might not even think it's a date at all, it could just be two friends hanging out, having a conversation. And the conversation is going to be about _feelings_ , and it's going to suck.

So she dresses casually, hair in a loose braid, glasses on, cute without trying too hard. She reminds herself that this is _Bellamy_ , and most of the reason she wants to date him is that she likes him and enjoys spending time with him and feels comfortable talking to him, so she really shouldn't worry this much. Either he feels the same or he doesn't, and if he doesn't, at least she'll be able to stop going to social events she doesn't actually care about just because she wants to see him.

Not that she'll go back to being a total recluse or anything, obviously. She'll just cut back a little. Be more selective and less stupidly desperate. Maybe give herself some time to get over the disappointment. Which is still hypothetical. 

She takes a few breaths, grabs her purse and keys, and heads out. Bellamy's already at the coffee place when she arrives, waiting outside with his hands in his pockets, breath puffing out a little in the still-chilly March air.

"Hey," he says, with a smile that she can't quite read.

"Hey. Sorry to keep you waiting."

"It's cool, I'm always early." He holds the door open for her. It's early afternoon and while there are plenty of people at the various tables, the line is short. They get drinks and find two open seats at the end of a long table, and Clarke's debating what to say when Bellamy says, "Did anyone tell you I'm asexual?"

It's about the last thing she was expecting him to say. "No."

His mouth twitches. "Sorry if I made it weird, but I thought you might be, uh--"

"Asking you out?"

"Yeah."

"I was going to."

"I'm not saying no," he says, but he's still not really smiling. Not like Clarke wants him to be. "Just, uh--I don't know if this is really what you're looking for." Clarke frowns, and he clarifies, "If you'd still want to date me."

Asexuality is something she knew existed, but she doesn't know much about it. As far as she knows, she doesn't know anyone who identifies that way--aside from, apparently, Bellamy--and she'd never researched it much. After all, she liked sex with Niylah, and she would have probably liked sex with Finn, which meant it wasn't a label for her, and she'd felt like it was fairly straightforward.

"I guess I assumed if you were asexual you just wouldn't date? Sorry," she adds. "You're the first person I've met who IDs that way. And you're bi too?"

"Biromantic asexual," he says. "I like relationships, I don't care about sex. But that's usually a lot to tell someone on a first meeting, especially if you don't know--" He shrugs. "Once asexuality comes up, it becomes a conversation about asexuality."

It feels a little like she's drowning, or like she can't catch her breath. It _is_ a conversation about asexuality, and she doesn't know where her footing is for that. "So, you want to date me, you just don't want to have sex with me?"

He rubs his neck, but he's speaking again before she can apologize. "I don't, uh--I don't _not_ want to have sex with you."

"Sorry, I'm just--not doing very well with this."

Now he does smile, a bright one, one of her favorite ones. "You're doing fine. I've been stressing about it so much, jesus. I didn't want to tell you because--I really like you. I didn't want to scare you off. But I felt like an asshole, so--here we are."

"You're not scaring me off. I don't care about sex that much either."

"No?"

"I haven't had it in a while, I don't miss it much." She smiles. "Full disclosure, I was thinking about having sex with you."

He laughs. "I was thinking about having sex with you too."

A little thrill runs through her, chased by a rush of guilt. It shouldn't be more exciting than his wanting to date her, and it's not, exactly. But there's something nice about the confirmation that he'd been thinking about _logistics_ , about how this would go. How to make it work. "So, this could be a date."

"Maybe." His expression sobers, and he wets his lips, eyes steady. "It's, uh--you should think about it. I've dated people who were sure they were cool with it, and then--"

"They weren't."

"I get it, it's a big deal for some people."

"Can I ask more questions?"

He laughs. "Sure."

"Do you like kissing?"

"Kissing's good."

"Sleepovers? Cuddling?"

"All good."

She fidgets with the sleeve on her coffee. "How did you know? Like--was it before or after you figured out you were bi?"

"After. I, uh--I told you about my mom, right?"

"Yeah."

"After she died, I was in pretty rough shape. My sister got put into foster care, I couldn't get her back, I was spiraling. And I, uh--had a lot of sex. Not to brag."

He's got a smile playing around his lips, so Clarke nudges his ankle with her foot. "Yeah, I'm so jealous you lost your family and went into a depression spiral."

"I figured, yeah."

"So, lots of sex."

"Yeah. I liked feeling, uh--useful." Clarke winces, and he shrugs, jerky. "I know, yeah. It was bad. And after, I figured out--I didn't like it. Which, yeah, obviously," he adds, at her expression. "It sucked. But it wasn't just that. Sex is something I do for other people, not for me. When I'm in a good place, that's not a problem. I like being with people I care about, it's fun, I like it. I get off. Just--if I never had sex again, I'd be fine, and that's tough for some people."

It's as if Clarke has stepped out of her body, as if she's seeing herself from a distance, seeing the whole scene from a distance, thinking about everything. She's had a privileged life, a fortunate one, hasn't ever hit rock bottom like Bellamy did after his mother died. That's not news, nor is her general lack of experience with sex. It just never felt noteworthy. If anything, it felt healthy, that she wasn't obsessing over a relationship, had escaped from the trap of thinking she _needed_ someone.

And that can all still be true. But other things could be true too.

"I've never actually had sex with a guy," she admits. "I've dated two guys and one woman, and I only actually had sex with the woman. And it was--fine." He nods, but doesn't say anything, so she has no choice but to go on. "Once I'd done it, it didn't bother me that I wasn't still doing it. I don't miss it. I like, uh--" She glances around, mindful that they're having this conversation in a coffee shop. "It's a good stress reliever. Before bed or something. But that's just--me."

Bellamy's mouth quirks. "Diplomatic."

"We're in a coffee shop!"

He wets his lips. "Monty and Jasper aren't home. You want to talk there?"

They take their coffees and walk back, chatting about Bellamy's classes and Clarke's project at work, easy things. But there's this bright seed of hope in Clarke's stomach, this tiny, growing kernel. They could be on the exact same page, a page Clarke didn't even know about. A secret chapter at the end of the book that explains all the loose ends, resolves things you didn't even know you were wondering about.

There's a unique pleasure in learning there's a word for something you didn't realize needed one.

"I always kind of thought asexuality was just--no interest in sex."

"It's a spectrum," says Bellamy. "And it's kind of like--it's related to compulsory heterosexuality, I guess, but--it took me so long to even figure out how much sex I was supposed to want and how I was supposed to feel about it."

"Yeah." She lets out a breath. "I honestly don't know. I never thought about it. But I think we could probably make it work. I think we'd probably be pretty good for each other."

"Me too." He ducks his head, smiles. "So, you want to watch a movie and talk about masturbating?"

The happiness sprouts and grows, big enough to fill up her whole chest, her whole world. "Sounds perfect."

*

Clarke doesn't really have trouble not sleeping with Bellamy. But she doesn't have trouble sleeping with him, either, when she wants to. She is curious about it, after all, and it's fun with Bellamy, when she's not worried about doing things _right_ or being _good_ and mostly just wants to try things. She'll read a book and the characters will be overcome by lust and have sex in a bizarre position, and she'll draft him into seeing if it works, or he'll be in the mood to eat her out, or they're both just in the mood to be naked together and see what happens.

Mostly, she puts her feet in his lap while she reads, and she kisses him before she leaves for work in the morning, and he cooks her dinner and she does the dishes, and she cuddles into him at night before bed, and she loves him.

It's everything she never had the words for, everything she didn't realize she was looking for. 

He proposes, and she says yes, and just like that, Bellamy Blake is her last boyfriend, her only fiance, and her only husband.

It's not that hard, once she figures it out.


End file.
